


Bar Fight

by Its_Raineing_Words



Category: Mafia (Video Games)
Genre: Bar Room Brawl, Gen, Survivor Guilt, a bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 09:46:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1600382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Raineing_Words/pseuds/Its_Raineing_Words
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe feels guilty about Vito being sent into the Army so he deals with it the only way he knows how, by getting drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bar Fight

Joe stared down at his empty bottle; he was sat alone in a shitty bar trying to drown his guilt in cheap beer. He was so chicken-shit, he’d let Vito take the fall and now he was in the army. If he died it would be on Joe’s hands, who knows, maybe he’s dead already and the news just hasn’t gotten to him yet. His intoxicated brain went through a bunch of scenarios; but after about ten he decided on another beer, he was already buzzed-might as well get smashed. As he was stumbling over to the bar he bumped into a burly guy with a scar on his left cheek.

“Watch where you’re going, fucker!” The guy pushed him into the table behind him

Joe was disorientated but pulled himself up and swung a haymaker at his head with the bottle; it smashed on his temple and knocked him off to the side-he used the time to grab another bottle and smash it on the table-pointing the end at the asshole.

“You fuck…” He let out a growl and launched himself at Joe, everyone in the bar had left by this point and he could only assume the bar tender was calling the police. Before the guy could make it though he was pulled back and turned around. Then promptly punched in the face, a crack and the guy was on the floor; Joe gave him a good, solid kick for good measure-God that felt good. The man who had punched him, he noticed, had knuckle-dusters on, which probably was why the guy was passed out-he wasn’t exactly a small guy.

“Henry, Henry Tomasino.”

“Uh…name’s Joe Barbaro.”

“Drunk?”

“Yeah…th’n’s for healpin’, by th’way…”

“Yeah well me and him don’t get on so well so it was for me more than for you.”

“I get tha’.”

“What happened?”

“Huh?”

“People don’t just get drunk to get drunk, you must have a reason.”

“Yeah…I fucked up….got a good friend of mine pud’in da army…”

“You got him drafted?”

“Yeah…too fuckin’….chicken-shit to go down with ‘im now ‘e’s gonna die”

“Hey….you dunno know that. Why don’t I get you another beer, uh? You look like you need it.”

He guided Joe to a bar stool and sat him down before handing him a beer. Joe took a sip and made a face.

“Tast’s like piss…”

“Might just be…that’s what you get for bein’ cheap.”

“Ey…not all of us have money.”

“Even an alcoholic bum would at least buy a decent beer.”

Joe barked out a laugh “M’not an alcoholic.”

“Yeah you’re too young for that, anyway, come on we gotta go before the police get here.”

“Yeah…” Joe let himself be dragged out of the bar and into the road

“Hey kid, KID!”

“What?”

“Where d’you live?”

“Down the road and off to the left…I can get there-think I’ve sobered up some.”

“Good. I don’t want to drag you back home to your mother.”

He let go of Joe’s arm and turned to walk off in the opposite direction; Joe set off stumbling down the road-trying not to trip even though the world was spinning.

“Bye kid!” Joe looked back to see Henry looking at him, not smiling (guy didn’t look like he smiled), but warm

“Bye!” He yelled drunkenly; Henry chuckled and turned again.

On the way home he thought about Henry, he seemed like a nice guy, maybe he could help him get money-he looked like a Man of Honour if he ever saw one. It was a thought. Well if he ever saw the guy again that was. First priorities first: get home and sleep.


End file.
